


In which Crowley grows too many courgettes

by luna55



Series: Good Omens - Ficlets, Drabbles and Ineffable Fluff [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Air Conditioning, Cooking, Cute, Fluff, Gardening, House building, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, SO FLUFFY, courgettes, ineffable husbands, like seriously isn't not one remotely smutty moment, you'd think this would be smut but it really isn't, zucchini - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 20:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19838404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna55/pseuds/luna55
Summary: A ficlet in which Crowley plants courgettes and then wonders what on earth possessed him. Aziraphale is initally delighted to have a new cooking challenge, then somewhat flummoxed.





	In which Crowley grows too many courgettes

**Author's Note:**

> This fluff-bunny was prompted by a post on Tumblr discussing the tendency of zucchini (courgettes in British English) to grow prolifically if given half the chance.

Crowley didn’t quite know what had possessed him, in the heady optimism of spring gardening, to plant courgettes.[1]

Over the winter Aziraphale had casually commented how the little corner in the back of the garden would be just perfect for a vegetable patch, and wouldn’t it be lovely to have some fresh home-grown vegetables to cook with. Crowley had made the mistake of meeting Aziraphale’s hopeful gaze, and now he had courgettes.

Not just a couple of courgettes to go nicely into a summer salad, or even to have a few left over to give to the neighbours. No, Crowley had courgettes coming out of his ears (with far more subtlety than any hidden coin, much to the disappointment of Aziraphale). He’d planted one or two courgettes in amongst the other vegetables he’d purchased with feigned disinterested from the local garden centre. But the damned[2] things showed up everywhere. In amongst the potatoes, the carrots, peaking up in the rows of runner beans. Even a few in the strawberry patch.

They[3] appeared to be utterly unconcerned by his particular brand of horticultural encouragement, brazenly continuing to propagate beyond all reasonable expectations, no matter how firmly he explained to them that they had really better not.

Aziraphale had been delighted with the first harvest of Crowley’s little vegetable garden. When Crowley had dropped a selection of vegetables on the kitchen table one day in early summer with a practiced air of indifference, Aziraphale had beamed at him, his whole face lit up like, well, like an angel. That night he had served garlic and courgette pasta.[4]

The second crop had been greeted with equal enthusiasm by Aziraphale, “I’ve been dying to try that recipe for stuffed courgettes Anathema gave us last time we visited, do you remember my dear boy, the one with couscous that you didn’t think you’d like?”

By the third crop the smile had started to slip a bit. Now they were approaching the end of the summer and Aziraphale had quite exhausted the culinary possibilities of the courgette. It wasn’t like they had to eat anyway, and a summer of courgette for dinner was more than any being could reasonably be expected to put up with. Though Crowley did have to admit that the courgette and orange cake had been surprisingly good and he was considering the possibility of maintaining a flourishing orangery in rural England.

And they just. kept. growing.

One night Aziraphale had even started musing on trying out those spiraliser things that seemed so popular these days. Crowley had put his foot down on that one; he’d received a commendation for the invention of ‘courgetti’ and had never quite forgiven the humans for putting him in such a position.

When they finally started dropping off around October, Crowley went through his vegetable garden ruthlessly digging up every courgette plant and offshoot he could find, repotting them and gifting them to his least favourite neighbours.[5]

A few years later Aziraphale casually commented how nice it would be to make that wonderful courgette cake he’d made a few summers back, remember my dear, when we found the only plant in the world not susceptible to the fear of Crowley.

With a sigh of long-suffering fondness, Crowley got to his feet and wondered out to the thriving orangery, harvested a few terrified but delicious oranges, and wandered round to the corner shop to buy courgettes.

**Author's Note:**

> 1Authors more accustomed to US English will want to substitute ‘zucchini’ for courgette.[return to text]
> 
> 2Really and truly damned, not just on a slow saunter vaguely downwards.[return to text]
> 
> 3A pronoun only really matched in strength by the disapprobation with which the Tadfield Parish Council referred to the Them. [return to text]
> 
> 4Crowley had bought him a pasta maker a few years before and Aziraphale had been thrilled at no longer having to go all the way to Italy for decent pasta. [return to text]
> 
> 5Crowley’s particular form of gift-giving, when it didn’t involve Aziraphale, was along the same lines as stealth gardening. Said neighbours were somewhat surprised the following summer to find courgettes popping up amidst their roses, prize petunias or carefully curated vegetable patch. [return to text]


End file.
